The Apostasy of Roses
by blushinglily
Summary: Hitsugaya is keeping a secret. Just how far would the 10th division captain go to protect? A darker look at Hitsugaya's and Hinamori's relationship. Post-Winter Arc/AU.


**Title**: The Apostasy of Roses

**Pairing**: Hitsugaya x Hinamori, hint of one-sided HitsuMatsu, hints of HyouTobi

**Disclaimer**: All characters belong to their respective owners. I'm just borrowing them.

**Summary**: Hitsugaya is keeping a secret. Just how far would the 10th division captain go to protect? A darker look at Hitsugaya's and Hinamori's relationship. Post-Winter Arc/AU.

**Warning**: **Heavy **hints of abuse.

* * *

Looking back at everything that has happened, he doesn't really remember (_doesn't want to remember_) when everything he perceived to be _right_ and _good_ began to change, doesn't remember when the hair thin cracks of his mind began to widen and disperse, and an all too foreign darkness began to seep away good intentions with not-so innocent ones. He cannot recall, for the life of him, when the rush of silent rage began to mean something else entirely different, something more than over protectiveness when someone _dared_ to look at her with lust-filled eyes. He is unable to, in his frustration (_damn it all_), pin-point the exact time in his vast memory of this life of when the scent and color of her blood (_of her tears, of her essence_) became an addicting aphrodisiac to him, when the sight of her tear-stained cheeks (_in joy or fear, he doesn't know_), ghostly pale and tantalizing, began to send bursts of heat coursing through his chest, all the way down to his groins.

Long ago, he had felt jealousy towards her for the other children that would invite her to play with them, but feelings of wanting so much to own her…had never really presented itself. Long ago, he cherished her simply for the fact that she _accepted_ him, regarded him as her _friend_.

But now…it was different.

They had long ago crossed the boundary beyond friendship, beyond lovers, beyond soul mates, beyond _anything else_, but…even then, he still wanted more. He wants _more_. He couldn't get enough, and the fear that someone might take her away from him plagued him for nights on end. He would dream and he would imagine and he would _fantasize_ that he would kill and destroy everyone and _everything (Aizen, Renji, Kira, Matsumoto, shinigami), _no matter how tangible or intangible _(power, happiness, freedom),_ that threatened to come between them, that he would hear Hyourinmaru's blade sing at causing such destruction.

A part of his heart and soul was disturbed at such ideas, but the rest of him reveled and relished in the imaginary _bloodshed_ he knew and the gods knew he was capable of. The world would be coated in _ice _and the color of bloodif that's what it meant to keep her by his side.

_Had he always been this way? When did it all start?_

He questions (_it's so pointless now, so redundant_) himself, time and time again, when had it all begun? Did all this even begin with something coherent in the first place?

He has no answer (_he's gotten used to it_), and he's already given it up for naught.

He stood atop a distant hill, his emerald eyes scanning the horizon, the full landscape of Seireitei giving off an aura of power and authority (_but wasn't it just a few decades ago that it was in the midst of crumbling because of the idiocy of a man who called himself a god?_) and gave a light scoff. He turned, picking up the tan-colored duffle bag as he went, and without another glance, walked away from the majestic scenery, the summer wind lightly ruffling his white hair. Hyourinmaru was secured safely against his back (_he was tall now, much taller than her and had grown out of the innocence he once harbored in his heart_), and he could feel the dragon in his chest growl in satisfaction, thoroughly glad to be away from the presence of so many shinigami in one place.

For once, the creature that was his other self welcomed peace and quiet.

It wasn't going to be a terribly long journey, but it would be a good half hour from where he was now, and he was exhausted. His shihakusho and captain's haori has been left behind, and he wore only a black yukata and his sandals as to not look so conspicuous when in the realm of the Rukongai residents. His strange eye color and snow-colored hair, as well as the dangerous-looking katana he carried, already gave him unwanted attention.

He will not use shunpo (_she could wait; she's a patient person, always has been_), not right now; he was tired, and the transient mission with Matsumoto today, resulting in nothing more but routine rounds and mind-boggling boredom, did nothing to ease the headache that was slowly taking over his temples. Looking at the sky and detecting the hints of an early evening, he guessed that she was still napping (_she has long forgotten when is day and when is night_), and probably didn't expect to see him today.

He closed his eyes, contemplating. He is prideful, yes, but not so much that he would lie to himself (_he can never be away from her for too long_).

He's a little bit glad now, actually; an opportunity to surprise her has undoubtedly come up. He let out a small, boyish chuckle and continued on towards the empty dirt path, his hand tightening against the coarse straps of the bag.

Today was the anniversary of her death.

A blank, cold smirk slowly made its way across his face.

At least, that was how he established it for everyone, especially to her fellow vice-captains and friends. They all thought he was going to visit the grave, and for as much as he wanted to laugh out loud at the sheer irony of it all, he had actually wanted to, at first. But no, that slab of stone symbolized something false, and he will never allow himself to stoop her person so low as to visit something that engraved her memory in a lie, even if it was for the sake of protecting her (_for keeping her all to himself_).

Perhaps tomorrow, but who knows. He had gone there only once after arranging her funeral himself, and it had not been a pleasant afternoon (_of course, he _was_ suppose to be mourning her death_). It's not a place he wants to see again, because a small part of him (_all of him_) traitorously whispers in his head that it may all become a reality someday, that if he's not careful in keeping her safe, the sham he created may cave in around his world and shatter his paradise. He denies it (_with all his being_) and lets the whispers die down on their own.

The rest of his fellow captains and subordinates believe he's going there though, and that's fine. Let them believe what they want to believe (_his care for his reputation was abandoned a long time ago, and at this point in time, he couldn't care less_). Of course, none of them will follow him; he's already constituted his desire for solitude years ago during her supposed anniversary. Mayhaps Matsumoto might follow him, but that's all right too. She won't find him anyway, he made sure of that.

She has changed, that stupid, drunken Matsumoto, his partner for a good hundred years now. She mourns the memory of her beloved Gin, mourns him over and over (_isn't it so strange that she thinks he understands her?_), but she has changed (_he never wants to understand her…never wants to know the pain she has endured_). She looks at him with different eyes now, more shadows hidden, more secrets (_eyes that long for the touch of a man again, if only to forget the other tensai that was once in her life_). They trust each other for support (_or is it one-sided?_), and although he is grateful, he is not sorry to say that he cannot give her anymore than that.

He trusts her enough to get back on her own two feet again, no matter the emotional pain she's been dealt with.

But still, a part of him feels remorseful, and he could only hope that someday his vice-captain will find someone worthy to be her companion. Shinigami have such long lives, and it is only natural to want to find someone to spend eternity with. After all, loneliness is something everyone dreads for as a partner. To feel that way is only…human (_and isn't that nothing if not ironic_).

He made his way deep into the forest, the air of seclusion around the trees and bushes ominous and almost threatening, as if some being from another world was watching him with glazed eyes. It was getting harder and harder to see the path, but he's been here so many times, and he knew the way by memory.

The air was damp and humid here, even in the midst of a summer night.

The people of the village he passed by looked at him with fearful eyes, eyes that did not welcome outsiders inside their small, private world. It reminded him of his former home in Junrinan, except that in that nearby village, he had no home there, no grandmother to care for him or a kind girl to play with. He had ignored them, the feel of frightened gazes upon him an all too familiar sensation as he felt the hairs stand in the back of his neck, before Hyourinmaru calmed his nerves.

He was strong now and was no longer the child who had simply wanted to be accepted at one point in time.

A few more seconds, and he could see the entrance to the cave of the mountain, looming right in front of him, unsuspecting to any passerby. It was sealed off with a boulder laced with his reiatsu, so the threat of another person coming in to his sanctuary never presented itself. Even so, he still had his doubts, so he often made the extra effort to camouflage the inconspicuous rock with kidou, enough that should even high-ranking shinigami come to this place it will be enough to fool them. The cave was situated in a low ridge, so it would be impossible to suspect that an opening was carved into the mountain.

It was evening now, and the stars looked beautiful. He would have to remember to take a picture of the dark sky for her before he leaves tomorrow evening.

With a grunt, he jumped over the last slab of rock blocking the makeshift dirt path and patted his clothes free of the dust. He was careful not to let the duffle bag hit against the solid surface, lest the food and other rations he brought with him be crushed; he wouldn't really want to go back to Soul Society in the morning with a duffle bag full of meshed food and have silly onlookers that would think to themselves how strange it was that a captain was doing laundry. He brought peaches with him too, and the look of disappointment is not something he likes to see on her face.

With a controlled precision of his kidou, he blasted away a chunk of the quarry with one hand while the other held a small flame from his palm to give light to the dark tunnel, the bag slung over his shoulder.

He stepped inside, his footsteps echoing for what seems like miles and miles of stone and cement.

All around the spacious room, there was nothing but sediment and silence.

For a moment he looked around, readying himself should there be a need to unsheathe Hyourinmaru. He let his energy flow from wall to wall, diligent not to miss any nook and cranny that an intruder may use to hide in. Even with the security measures he implemented in this hidden location that made the area practically trespass-proof, safety is something he cannot afford to be lenient on. His countless mistakes in the past have proven that time and time again.

His blank eyes scrutinized the long passageway, the shadows reflecting on his face from the light of the kidou flickering in unity with the turn of his head as he looked around in suspicion.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Not a single pebble was out of place; the channel was left in the same state as he left it in two days ago. Taking one last peek around the tunnel, he flicked his fingers and immediately, the passageway lit up, orbs of demon magic high against the wall, ten meters apart. With a sigh of relief, he extinguished the light, strangely glad that the warm tingling that he was starting to feel in his fingertips were slowly starting to dissipate.

Making sure his load was safe and secured, he set the bag down against a stone roughly three feet high. He promptly turned around and sealed the bedrock shut, making sure to lace the great mass with kidou and his own spiritual pressure. Using a reverse spell, he enclosed the hastily made entrance from his earlier blast, making sure to pack the rock tightly, lest any air bubbles be left behind. When he was satisfied with his work, he clapped his hands free of ash and soot and turned around, stopping for a few minutes, and letting his eyes adjust in the darkness.

When he was finally able to make out the long path ahead of him, he picked up the bag and continued on. From here on out it would take another fifteen to twenty minutes to get to the main alcove he created.

The first long corridor down, a left turn, go straight, and finally, turn at the first right. He'd been here for so long, one could almost say it was almost as if he was running solely on instinct as he made his way through the long stretch of tunnel.

Quickening his pace, he wasted no time to get to the secluded room.

She was fast asleep on the makeshift cot when he found her. The invisible chains that sealed away her spiritual pressure were still firmly locked around her wrists, and there was no sign that indicated she had been trying to take them off. Perhaps from years and years of experience as a captain, it was instinct that made him suspicious. The soles of her feet were dirty, and dry streaks of tears were visible on her face. He was relieved that she was safe, but the source of her tears, whatever it was, worried him. He was furious and exasperated, at her for making him worry and at himself for not trusting her (_was she planning to escape is it possible she went near the entrance it's dangerous she could have gotten hurt she's so stupid is she hurt she better not have tried anything or I swear to god I'll-_ ).

The room was bathed in the calming, heady aroma of jasmine, and he looked around, spotting the scented candle he brought for her a few weeks ago. The small flame illuminated the otherwise semi-dark room. The glow made the ice that covered the ceiling look like diamonds, and made the room look all the more homely and comfortable.

Without realizing what he had been doing, he slowly let go of Hyourinmaru's hilt, and brought a hand to massage his temples, his headache that had been starting to wear off, coming back in full force. His hand ached from gripping his sword too hard (_just_ _as she had done so many decades ago_), and he removed the weapon from the green sash, letting it lean against the nearby wall. He set his bag down next to the sword and made his way to her still form. Her hair was out of its ponytail, and strands of dark brunette fanned against most of the expanse of the cot. Sinking down gently beside her, he gathered her in his arms and lightly kissed her exposed shoulder, careful not to wake her up.

True to her training as a shinigami, her body tensed, sensing the presence of another in the room. For a few seconds, she lay guarded, ready to pounce if an intruder had made its way here. She did not open her eyes, cautious and unrelenting, and when she sensed his familiar embrace, the scent and feel of his spiritual pressure engulfing her body, she relaxed, lost again in a world of dreams and illusions. Her grip on his yukata loosened, and he faintly heard her give a sigh of relief. She adjusted her position to snuggle even closer to him, and sighed in contentment.

Her hair had grown so long, up to the middle of her lower back now. She'd long since lost the baby face that had made her so well admired and considered cute by most of the male shinigami. Her hands were smooth, for all the world to know that they have not held a sword for a very long time. Her curves were more defined now, more sensual, and she had grown just a tad bit taller since her last days as a vice-captain. The one thing that remained the same were her eyes, still so innocent, so bright, so pure (_he'd see to it that it stays that way forever_).

Caressing her wrists tenderly, he murmured a spell that disintegrated the cuffs, seeing them slowly disappear like sand. Her skin was slightly swollen, and for a moment he felt a pang of guilt, contemplating about whether or not installing the cuffs back on her for when he leaves again. This land was so secluded already, and no resident from the village outside would even dare come near this place. It's a good distance away from Seireitei, and they all believed that she's long…_dead_.

For a while he sat, holding her while his mind calculated the possibilities of danger, should he allow her this small freedom (_her spiritual pressure is still so high even after so long what are the chances that she won't be discovered without bringing notice to her reiatsu even if this place is secluded it doesn't—it doesn't guarantee that she's safe—she might get hurt—swollen wrists is a small price to pay so long as she's safe—she needs to be guarded no matter—_).

He clenched his fists, his hold instinctively getting tighter around her form. This must have woken her up, because a few seconds later when he opened his eyes, she was looking straight at him, her gaze speaking volumes of worry and concern. She was trembling from his vice grip and not realizing that he had released a surge of spiritual pressure, released her abruptly as he tried to control his power.

She tumbled off of his lap, her long hair framing her face, and yelped, confusion evident.

He called to Hyourinmaru's presence and allowed the dragon to coil around his chest and soothe his rapidly beating heart. He brought a hand to his temples and massaged them slowly. Sweat rolled down the side of his face, and he mumbled a quiet offering of remorse for losing composure.

For a second, all she did was merely look at him. She shook her head lightly, looking thoughtful and eased his fingers away from his forehead to intertwine with hers.

"Shiro-chan, are you all right?" she asked, bringing her other hand to his cheek, brushing the skin underneath his eyes.

"Nothing…I'm fine," he replied, bringing a hand to cover her own against his face, and placing a light kiss on her palm. She looked at him suspiciously for a moment, before letting the matter go and making a mental note in the back of her mind to ask him about it later.

"I didn't know you were coming today." She stood up slowly and walked over to the corner of the room where a makeshift tabletop was carved so that she had a place to pile all of her clothes. With her back turned to him, she untied the sash holding her yukata together, and let the robe fall to her ankles. The scar from so long ago was starting to fade, barely visible against her naked back (_yet he remembers it all so clearly_). "If I had known you were coming today, I would have washed some of my clothes before you arrived. I look like a mess."

She turned to him and giggled (_almost seductively_), a soft, melodious sound, while she shuffled about to put on a lavender-colored kimono with a white obi (_her shinigami robes are long gone, scorched to pieces and destroyed in his rage when she dared to ask him if she could keep them_). Her giggles are different from how her laughs were a long time ago, laughs that were once carefree and so _utterly_ happy, are now tamed and much more quieter. Still, her eyes told him that she was happy and satisfied, and he's content (_he's relieved_).

He smiled lazily and stood up, walking over to where she stood. He stopped the movement of her hands and took her in his arms from behind. Her appearance looked somewhat messy, her kimono halfway through her shoulders while she struggled to keep the partly tied obi in place. She gave him a small smile and playfully tried to tug away from him. She made a small noise in the back of her throat, as if a chuckle was about to erupt from her lips. He kept her in his embrace, smiling in amusement at her childish antics.

Her reiatsu was relaxed, and felt warm against his cool skin. In the back of his mind, he could feel, and he was sure that she could feel it as well, Hyourinmaru enveloping Tobiume inside his wings, holding the beautiful phoenix close, so protective…so possessive of his sole treasure. He could almost sense as if he too could touch Tobiume, the smaller, winged creature willing obedience to his dragon and allowing him to hold her and nuzzling his long, sinewy neck. It felt pleasant and calming, and he was very glad that he was able to finally merge both of their inner worlds together.

For a few more seconds, they stood still, savoring the feel of each others' bodies.

"Shiro-chan, I have to dress," she murmured, giggling at the tightness of his hold. She used her forefinger to rub circles on the back of his hand, laughing when he wouldn't move.

He looked at her for a moment, staring at her intently before giving a slight nod and finally let her ago.

Once her kimono was properly in place, she turned around and gave him a quick peck in the cheek, walking back on to the softness of the cot, and settled herself down comfortably, watching him. He walked over to where his zanpakutou was and grabbed the duffle bag.

"I brought some more food," he said nonchalantly, and sat in front of her. She clapped her hands in delight, and gave him a brilliant smile when she saw him take out a bag of peaches. He also took out a couple of books of her favorite genres, as well as a new sky-colored kimono. As is with everything else, he was always diligent about providing provisions, and he brought enough food inside this place to last her a number of months.

"Ah, thank you, Shiro-chan!" she exclaimed cheerfully, and enthusiastically bit into her peach, enjoying the sweet taste. He said nothing, and only gave her a small smile in return. They were quiet for a few minutes, and only the sound of her quiet chewing could be heard. After a while, he took out a piece of cloth and wiped her fingers clean of the sticky juice. Even now she ate her food like a child, especially when it comes to her favorite fruit. She giggled again, and leaned against the wall, full and happy.

"So, any news lately?" she asked curiously, grabbing a comb from the side of the cot and running it through her hair, careful to not pull on the snags too hard. He stopped her movement and gave a weary sigh, taking her hand in his and looked at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Kurosaki and Kuchiki are getting married next month," he said, satisfied when he saw her breakout into a full grin.

"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed, bringing her hands together in excitement. "They'll be happy, I know it."

They would often talk of many things while he was in here: his work as a captain and how as usual, paperwork was piling up, missions from the world of the living, Matsumoto's lazy bum refusing to do anything that even resembles the act of putting brush to paper. He knew that she had had to make many sacrifices when they both came to the agreement for her to stay secluded in this cave, but still, he tries to believe (_forces himself to believe_) that she is happy and he is content. Talking about the outside world, although she's no longer a part of it, brings about a sense of comfort and reality to keep away loneliness and boredom.

He often tells her of many things; how Sereitei's has changed in the last couple of years, of Kyouraku's and Ise's budding romance, of Ukitake's advancing illness, of Hisagi's own marriage to Mareyo. He told her of how Jyunrinan has recently started to develop, and how just a few days ago, he'd brought flowers to their grandmother's grave and how the attendant he hired was doing a good job keeping her tombstone safe and always spotlessly clean. He told her of many _many_ things and for a moment, he hesitated to announce another piece of news, before he spoke again.

"…I've been chosen as a candidate by Central 46 to take over as captain commander," he replied after a short stretch of silence. "Captain Yamamoto will be retiring in a few months, and the higher-ups don't want the spot vacant for too long. Byakuya and Kyouraku have been considered contenders as well."

Her eyes went toward at him, surprised that he can even say it so casually, before breaking out on a full mode of jubilation as pride welled up within her chest. "Shiro-chan… Th-that's wonderful…that's _amazing!_ Oh, Shiro-chan…I'm so _so_ proud of you, just so proud! When will you take the exa—"

"I'm not taking it."

"Eh…? What?" She looked at him in puzzlement as her hand dropped the comb from its excited grip. "What did you say?"

"I said I'm not taking it."

"But—but _why_?"

"You know _why_, Momo."

"But Shiro-chan, this is an opportunity of a lifeti—"

"Enough all ready."

Abruptly, he roughly dropped her hand from his hold, and for a moment, she couldn't say a word, shocked at the cold gesture towards her. She blinked and shaking her head, she went on undeterred.

"You're not really serious, are you Shiro-chan?! Think of the possibilities if they choose you, the—"

"Just drop it."

"But _Toushiro_—"

"I _said_ drop it! I won't repeat myself again."

As she was getting ready to voice out her next round of protests, not a single word came out of her mouth when she looked at him. His face looked angry, and his eyes pierced her to the core, rooting her to her seat. His teeth were clenched, and his hand was tightly fisted against the fabric of his clothes. From her vicinity, she could tell that he was daring her to say _something_ about the matter if she really wanted to see him livid tonight. After a few heart beats, she closed her mouth and shut her eyes sadly, nodding in submission. Her hands folded on her lap and her head bowed, she looked like a small puppy that had just been kicked to obey quietly. She stared at her hands, not willing to say another word until he permitted her to do so.

It always came down to this whenever they talked about his life outside of this cave. She knew that he absolutely hated it when they talked about things…circumstances that may threaten their arrangement. It was this sort of discussion Hitsugaya dreaded to talk about, and he realizes now that he was a damn fool for bringing up his candidacy to Momo. He honestly felt guilty, but words of apology did not come to him now. She was as stubborn as a mule, so he gave a sigh of weariness and took her hand again, stroking the back of her hand in slow circles with his thumb. He knew she was pouting at him, angry in self-indignation, but he paid no mind to it, determined to get his point across.

Looking at her, he decided to stay quiet for a little while longer, wanting to give her time to compose herself, lest she break down in tears.

They stayed like that for a while, but the echo of nothingness was grating on his nerves, and she didn't look like she'll be smiling anytime soon.

"Look…Momo," he started, ruffling his snow-white hair in frustration at the awkwardness between them. "You know the reason why I don't want to take the examination. It's not something I ever aspired to do, and I...I'm content with how things are. "

She looked away, refusing to give a response.

He sighed. This was going to be hard.

He gave her a critical look, and willed his best to speak to her with a logical voice. "If I became a captain-commander, it would mean less time for me to bring you supplies and less time for me to come and visit you. A captain-commander does not have the flexibility of scheduling time in comparison to that of a regular captain. A captain-commander will have to give up _any_ semblance of a personal life, and I _won't_ give you up. "

She kept her head turned and simply let out a sigh.

Again and again, it always came down to the same reason: _her_. Her and _this_…situation.

"It would be so easy just to change everything, don't you think?" she asked nonchalantly. "All you would have to do is let me go. It would be so _easy…_"

"It's so much harder than you think. _So much_ more."

Any notion or idea of permanently releasing her hands scatters to ashes in his mind, and already he is moving towards her and holding her wrists together. Within a moment, the chains are back, and she is too weary, too tired to break them away. She probably wouldn't have the capability even if she tried; his reiatsu has gotten even stronger over the years, while the essence of her reiatsu has started to quiet down as the years went by.

His face is blank as he works to finish the spell and fully wrap the chains around her hands once more. He says nothing, and from the back of his mind, he can see Tobiume look on with eyes that seem to stare at the core of his soul.

Her voice is softer now.

"You underestimate yourself."

"Rather you overestimate me, wouldn't you say?" he retorts gently, willing the conversation to safer ground. He gave her a small smile, but he knows she pretended not to see it.

She smiled carefully, and try as she might, she can't help but let a few tears fall. Slowly as her throat lets out a small hiccup, she held her hands near her lips and placed a small, almost worshipful kiss on the invincible chains that she knows, bounds her inside this place.

She is a willing prisoner, or so she tells herself.

Hitsugaya's love for her and her for him is the same as her loss of freedom, and…she has always had only one option to choose from the beginning.

He looked at her face and her complete obedience prostate before his feet (_he can see them, his for the taking_), and almost immediately, euphoria washed over him: his paradise is not _broken_, and she is his again.

He took her in his arms and guided them both to lie back on the cot. Tomorrow, they will talk of many more things again, and he will leave, and in a few days time, as always, he will return to this small world he had created for her and for himself. He caressed the chain that locked her reiatsu away, and with his body spooning behind hers, his face nestled against her shoulder, and his arms wrapped around her waist, he drifted away with the comforting scent of her hair to lull him to a quiet sleep.

If he had been looking, he would have seen Hinamori's cinnamon eyes fade to nothingness as she made a move to press up against him and snuggle closer. She smiled again, and the emptiness of it echoed throughout the cave.

* * *

If you have a moment, please leave a review to tell me what you think!


End file.
